Telling Grace
by LadyJenny
Summary: Um, Grace? ... I talk to God.
1. Decision

Telling Grace

"Um, Grace? … I talk to God."

Author's Note: I own nothing related to _Joan of Arcadia _except a Season One DVD set.

You may recognize references to "Anonymous," "Silence," "Out of Sight," and "Common Thread," as well as many other episodes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I have to tell her. She deserves to know. She's my best friend. She was sitting vigil for me in the hospital hallway while I lay in my room and told Adam. I told Adam, and he didn't believe. But then he did. Adam believed for me when I could not, held me up when I wanted so badly to fall. Maybe it isn't such a bad thing if friends find out.

She didn't know she was doing it, but she saved me. Without realizing it, she stepped in, finished the assignment I closed my eyes to. In the midst of her own long crisis of faith, she did unknowingly what I refused to acknowledge needed doing, opened my eyes to the Truth I'd been hiding from for so long. She gave me back my purpose … doesn't she deserve to know she saved more than one life that night?

She waited with me, talked with me as we held that vigil for Adam in the rangers' cabin. She was honest with me where nobody else would be. She forced me to acknowledge the connections, see the ripples. All the ripples. Even my good ripples sent tiny disruptive ones, distancing ones, into my friendships, especially mine with her. Into my family's love for me. Into Adam's heart.

I can see the good I've done and don't regret it … but thanks to her I can also see the hurt I've caused. But I can mend it now, if I choose.

I have to choose, I have to do it.

I have to tell Grace about God.


	2. Confession

"Grace? Can we talk?" I ask, looking down from my perch on the edge of my bed. The beanbag chair on my bedroom floor shifts as she looks up from her notebook.

"What is it, Girardi?"

"Remember what you said, about my secrets? That night at the ranger station? About my not being the easiest person to connect with?"

"Yeah … but you have to admit I'm right. Don't deny it."

"No, that's not it. I … I want to tell you my secret."

Grace leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in the palm of her hand, as Styrofoam pebbles shuffle around her. One eyebrow quirks in the facial expression I recognize as a silent "I'm listening." As I open my mouth, the words just tumble out.

"I told Adam, way back last summer in the hospital that day before Gentle Acres. You can ask him if you don't believe me. He didn't either at first but then he did and then he believed more than I did for a while." Grace is looking even more perplexed, but she doesn't say a word.

"It started … I guess almost two years ago now. He showed up one day, this really hot guy in a brown corduroy jacket, and told me to get a job at Skylight, but I didn't believe Him. He knew about the promise I made when Kevin was in the operating room, but I still didn't believe. And then She showed up again, this time She was the cafeteria lady. And I did, and I almost got kidnapped but then they caught the guy, and Kevin found a job because of it, and it made good ripples. And then I believed it was real. And I spent the whole year doing assignments. That's what I called them anyway. He called them suggestions. Rocky was one, so was Casper, so was that time I asked Ramsey to the dance, so were all the stupid clubs and the knitting and everything else, and so was that day I found your poem … but they turned into more than just that.

"But then when they told me I had Lyme disease and it caused hallucinations and I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing … but how could I have when I saw the ripples were good."

Grace opens her mouth; I think she's about to interrupt so I just keep talking faster.

"And then last fall He told me to keep my eyes open, the night of the party, but I didn't listen so I just let Judith drink and drink and drink … but you saved her, you saved her for me. You showed me it was real and it mattered and if I said no, bad things could happen. And then I believed again and I've been doing assignments all this year. You gave me back to …"

Finally Grace manages to stanch the flow of words from my mouth long enough to burst out with the question.

"WHO, Girardi? Who is it telling you to do all this stuff? You don't have to put up with it you know, you can talk to your dad, he'll put a watch on the guy or …"

Now it's my turn to interrupt.

"No, Grace. Not like that. It's … God. I, um, I talk to God."


	3. Interrogation

Chapters Three and Four were deleted and re-posted because the site seemed to have eaten them. Chapter Three is now re-re-posted for errors.

o-o-o-o

"You. Talk. To G-d. What, you think I'm as gullible as Rove or something?"

"No, Grace. I really really do. Please … please believe me."

"But you're not even religious. I'M more religious than you. Why does G-d come to you then and not others?"

"Maybe I'm not religious like Mom or Lily or your dad or you, but I believe, Grace. I believe that God exists and I know that I am doing God's work. I don't know everything. There's a lot I don't know, in fact. But I ask anyway, because that's what I do. And God doesn't always answer – I've never found out why there's war, or poverty, or anything like that. But it doesn't matter: It's about questions. Just like you said in your Bat Mitzvah speech. I ask, and I try, and I don't always know why I'm trying, I thought your poem was supposed to be for the yearbook but that wasn't it at all, it was just because it was beautiful like Notre Dame… Please …"

I'm looking into her eyes now, pleading with her to believe me. But she just stands up, shrugs, grabbing her backpack as my beanbag chair settles back to the floor with a soft crinkle. Before I know it, she's climbing out the window. Gone.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Author's note: In Jewish custom, the name of God is rarely written in non-permanent material; G-d is an often-used substitute. Grace would probably use it, even if Joan would not.


	4. Revelation

Author's note: Perspective/point-of-view change ahead!

o-o-o-o-o

Grace is storming as she drops out of the tree by the Girardi house and starts to walk home. Joan has never lied to her before. Avoided answering questions, yes, but never lied. Why has she started now? And not even in response to a direct question, even. She just out-of-the-blue volunteered it. Why? If Grace can't trust her anymore … what can she do? How will she explain this to Luke? How do you tell your boyfriend you don't trust his sister, your best friend, anymore? But still … honesty is the most important thing Grace ever requires of a friend … why did her best friend ever except for Rove have to fail her? …

Grace's internal monologue comes up short as she nearly trips over an old man sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. He's wearing a white yarmulke and prayer shawl, and his eyes twinkle behind black-framed glasses as he greets her cheerfully.

"Good morning, _shayneh_ Grace!"

Grace is used to ebullient greetings from the members of her father's synagogue. She shrugs and mutters a brusque "Good morning" in reply. She's about to brush on past when his voice stops her cold.

"She didn't fail you, you know." Grace turns and looks at the man, eyes narrowing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Quite the contrary, in fact, my dear. She trusted you enough to be more honest with you than she's been with anyone … except of course for that extraordinary young man who taught you to fold paper boats and enabled you to sail your dreams down the sewer instead of running away from home."

Grace is floored now.

"I never told anyone how much that meant to me. Not even Rove …"

"No, you didn't, but I did enjoy your poem very much all the same."

"She was … she was telling the truth … and I …"

"No, Grace, you haven't failed her yet." Grace's eyes narrow as she once again hears her own thoughts in her companion's mouth. "You haven't failed her, because you have the free will and loving heart I gave you, and because each moment brings a new choice and a new chance. And because you're an adult now, _shayneh maidel_, and you know how to ask questions."

Grace turns, almost starts running, but her steps pause for a moment.

"You aren't a member of my father's synagogue at all, then," she says.

"Quite the contrary, daughter of the Torah… I'm there every hour of every day." The old man stands up, grins and turns around. Grace watches carefully as he strolls away, but as soon as he leaves her line of vision, she's sprinting back to the Girardi house. Too exhausted to face the tree-and-gutter route again, she rings the doorbell and waits as Joan clatters down the stairs.

Joan pulls the door open, and Grace takes a small bit of pleasure in the look of relief in her friend's eyes. Joan is about to open her mouth, face alight with questions, but Grace cuts her off.

"Does He always do that annoying smug wave thing?"

-Finis-

Translation: _shayneh maidel_ means "beautiful girl" in Yiddish. A yarmulke is the skullcap worn by Jewish men.

That's all I've got planned! Hope you enjoyed it!


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